Fingers running up my thigh
like runners on the track;
you were gunna win the race,
while I was on my back.
Your lips would say I love you
when you kissed my hairline,
but your hands grabbed me tighter
saying I’ll make you mine.
Inside, I was your princess,
your perfect, only one.
Outside, I was just legs up –
another prize you won.
Now I see the broken smile,
the truth I can’t erase.
It’s hard to forget the past
when guilt is on my face.

